White Harbor

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Aranya glanced at her courser, who was staring at the little woman with a fixed eye, and then looked at the crone again. "Who are you?" she asked impatiently, but now there was curiosity in her voice. For all she knew, this was some old wrinkled ice cunt sniffing for some idiot's gold, but she had come North for a reason...

[Lord Rhodri Arryn]

Selwyn's ears pricked up at mention of the horse. He still had his unanswered questions about what was happening with Aranya. Perhaps this crone knew something.

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The crone's leer remained, but her eyes were grave and old. "I see you," she whispered hoarsely. "I see you, shapechanger. Seer. Killer. Why have you brought your power here? I know," and then she cackled. It raised the hairs on all their necks. "You must learn, yes, you must, killer and seer that you are. But first, I must give you something. Yes, something you need. Follow me."

And she tottered off, without looking back.

[Lord Rhodri Arryn]

Selwyn takes Brynden from Aranya's arms. "You should do this alone. There is something important in this."

As soon as Aranya canters after the crone, Beaumarin, taking his cue from Selwyn, trails her from a good distance.

[Deleted]

Aranya gave Selwyn a bewildered look, and then glanced at Hodrick. Her courser nudged her arm.

Without hesitating, Aranya went after the little woman.

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The crone led her out of the city, into the dark woods, the branches blocking out light and the white trunks of the weirwoods gleaming eerily.

"Who are you?" Aranya asked, pressing against her horse and trying not to show her wariness. But the crone just cackled, as if she knew.

"I'm just old, child. Older than you can dream. I've been here for many long years, waiting...and now winter has come, and with it you came too." She turned her face to give Aranya another toothless leer. "Ah, here we are."

They had stopped at a great weirwood. The snow was deep, so Aranya didn't see the gap under the trunk until the crone reached in. It was as if a part of the trunk was hollowed out. The woman was grunting with the effort of pulling something.

"Do you want some help?" Aranya asked uncertainly.

"Not yet!" the crone snapped. "The killer is so eager to touch them, isn't she? You are a dark one, you, but you're what we will need. And this is what you will need. Aye, and your lover too."

And she pulled something out of the trunk, with astonishing strength. Aranya bent over her swiftly, but what she saw made her pause. They were two long blades with black hilts...but the blades were black too.

She gingerly touched the blade of one of the swords, and it was so cold she bit her tongue. It was black as night, yet it shone in a hard, cold way as the light rippled across it. When she turned it on its edge, the blade was so thin that it became almost invisible. She slashed with it, and it cleaved deep into the thick old weirwood trunk.

"It is dragonglass," the old crone said quietly. "As cold as its foe, too sharp for their white bodies, and it does not break, killer. It does not break."

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"What are you talking about?" Aranya said sharply. The sword was strange and deadly, and its brother was just as long and sharp, but the woman was talking about..."For gods' sake, old crone, are you babbling about the Others?" Aranya couldn't hide her contempt.

"The white walkers exist," the little wizened crone said in a hard voice. "I have seen them, you stupid child, with my own waking eyes. And their walking dead, those I have seen too. I am old, and from beyond the Wall. I have seen with my waking eyes and my hidden one. Let me tell you."

And she began to talk. Aranya felt herself go still as she listened.

[Lord Rhodri Arryn]

Beaumarin watched silently from deep within the forest, ready and alert should Aranya be endangered.

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Aranya lifted the crone onto her courser, who for once did not mind, and tucked the obsidian swords under the saddlebags. Then she mounted up behind the woman, took the reins, and rode back to the harbor. She did not see Beaumarin, as he was well hidden in that dark forest.

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Aranya rode slowly back to the harbor, deep in conversation with the crone. When she reached Selwyn and Hodrick, she said,"This little woman is coming with us." Her tone brooked no argument. "I hope you had time to get everything ready?"

[Lord Rhodri Arryn]

"We are ready to go," Lustrig says, still looking impatient. Beaumarin comes riding up from behind Aranya.

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Aranya twisted in her saddle to stare at Beaumarin, her eyes narrowing. She rounded on Selwyn. "Did you send him after me?"

[Lord Rhodri Arryn]

"Not at all. He was picking up barley and saltpork to make morning porridge on our journey," Selwyn says. When Aranya turns back towards Beaumarin, he holds up a hefty burlap sack.

"I got some winter squash, too, but those won't last long. Just the first few days of the trip," Beaumarin says, and starts to juggle the small, mishapen squash.

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Aranya still looked suspicious, but she said grudgingly, "It had better be good barley and pork." She loaded the crone onto a waiting wagon, slid an arm around Selwyn, and glanced at Brynden in his arms. "The crone has given me two dragonglass swords," she said, bending her head towards his and speaking quietly. "One is for you. And as for what she told me after that..." her eyes flashed to Hodrick.

"I'll tell you later, love."

[Lord Rhodri Arryn]

"Dragonglass...intriguing."

The various men in their company mounted their horses and the wagondriver cracked the reins. The small force began the ride from White Harbor torwards the North.